The Darke Toad (2 page)

“You may well look shocked, Heap. We are going to visit the Port Witch Coven! Oh!”

DomDaniel's head gave one last wobble and fell off.

M
arcia Overstrand, ExtraOrdinary Wizard
, was regretting her decision. It was the first time she had taken her new Apprentice, Septimus Heap, away from the Castle, and it was turning into a nightmare.

Septimus had been working hard in the Wizard Tower for six months now, and Marcia had decided that it was time he had a break. She had arranged what she called a “treat” for Septimus—a treasure hunt through the bookshops in the Port in search of a book that she knew Septimus loved:
A Hundred Stories for Bored Boys
. Marcia had already tracked the book down to Woollie Wottery's Pots'n'Books, an odd little shop that she was fond of. With the help of Woollie Wottery, who owned the shop, Marcia had devised a series of clues to lead Septimus to the book, which Miss Wottery had hidden in a
Magykal
box under the counter. Not only would the treasure hunt be fun for Septimus, it would also be a good way for him to learn how to get around the Port safely. Marcia had been very pleased with her idea—until now.

Right now she and Septimus were sitting on the Port Barge, which was itself sitting on a sandbank that the skipper swore had moved overnight. Using the Port Barge had been part of Marcia's plan. She wanted to show Septimus how to get around for himself, so that he did not need to rely on
Magyk
or the Wizard Tower ferry boat—which meant that everyone always knew where you were going and why. But right now Marcia wished she had taken the easy way and used the Wizard Tower ferry.

Marcia was wet, cold and an uncomfortable focus of interest for the other passengers from the Castle, who had not expected to find their ExtraOrdinary Wizard keeping them company. Marcia, in her turn, had not expected her fellow passengers to look so very
weird
. There were three young men wrapped in bandages stained with what Marcia hoped was fake blood, two young women wearing vast quantities of black netting and someone in a ferret costume, the head of which he or she wore throughout the voyage. Marcia supposed they were all going to some kind of fancy dress party.

As the waves of the incoming tide bashed against the side of the barge and darkness fell, Marcia felt miserable, but she was relieved to see that Septimus was still excited to be on a journey
just for fun
. When Marcia had proposed the trip, it had come as a shock to her that Septimus had clearly never thought it might be possible to go anywhere purely for pleasure. It had caught Marcia somewhere in her throat and made her eyes water when she realized that all her Apprentice's previous outings from the Castle had been terrifying Young Army maneuvers from which he had had a well-founded fear that he might not return. This had made Marcia even more determined that Septimus would have a really good time in the Port. But, as she watched Septimus smiling broadly and gazing excitedly at the lights of the Port—which were tantalizingly close—Marcia realized that there were more important things in life than being annoyed at being stranded on a sandbank, and she smiled too.

Five minutes later there was a round of applause from the passengers, and the Port Barge was floating free. They now made rapid progress to Castle Quay, where the mortified skipper saw her strange passengers off the barge and into the nighttime Port.

Like all ExtraOrdinary Wizards, Marcia had the use of a suite of rooms in the Customs House on the main harbor front. She was looking forward to getting there, where she knew the fire would be lit and supper awaiting them. She hurried Septimus off into the network of alleyways that would take them to the harbor front. After about ten minutes, Septimus, who had been lagging behind, said, “Are we there yet?”

Marcia tried very hard not to be snappy. This is meant to be fun, she told herself. “Nearly there,” she said.

Ten cold minutes later, Septimus said, “We've been here before.”

Marcia stopped. “Bother,” she said.

“We're lost, aren't we?” said Septimus.

“No. No, not at all,” Marcia insisted.

Septimus fished out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “It's a good thing I've brought a map.”

“A map?” Marcia wished she had thought of that.

“Yes. ‘
It's a fool who travels to places new, without a map to guide him through
.'”

“Well,
really
!” Marcia said indignantly—and then she remembered. “Oh, that's one of your Young Army sayings, is it?” she asked in her gentle, talking-about-the-past voice.

Septimus nodded. “They were quite useful, really,” he said—and then he remembered some rude ones they had had to learn about Marcia. “Well, most of them.” Septimus and his map now led the way and they quickly emerged from the maze of alleyways into a wide and well-lit street.

“I thought it best to get out of the alleys,” said Septimus, “and then head back down the bigger streets to the harbor. It's safer at this time of night.”

“Yes, good idea,” Marcia agreed, thinking that maybe Septimus wasn't in need of learning how to get around the Port safely after all.

A cold rain began to spatter down and Septimus shivered. The street felt somewhat creepy, and something, he didn't know what, was making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Marcia set off briskly and Septimus hurried after her, checking his map for the first turn that would take them down to the harbor. Suddenly he heard Marcia hiss, “
Unseen
number three. Now, Septimus.
Right now!
” Excited at the urgency in Marcia's voice that told him this was for real, Septimus quickly did as he was told.

A few seconds later, two
Unseen
shadows were walking along very quietly, watching two figures coming toward them on the other side of the street. One was hooded and swathed in a dark cloak; the other looked very strange.

“Goodness,” Marcia whispered to Septimus. “For a horrible moment I thought it was DomDaniel. It's got his face, but look at the way it's walking—how it lurches from side to side like a huge puppet.”

“It
looks
like someone dressed up, like those people on the boat,” Septimus said. “But it
feels
really horrible.”

Marcia was pleased with her Apprentice. “Exactly,” she said. “I suspect it is some kind of
Darke
illusion. There are, unfortunately, a few places here where you can buy those kind of things.” She sighed. “There are some very strange people living here in the Port, Septimus.”

Septimus agreed. He had never seen so many peculiar things in one place before.

Marcia watched the two figures turn a corner and disappear into the night. “We can let go the
Unseens
now, Septimus,” she said.

At the end of the road, Septimus found his shortcut to the harbor. Known as Drab Dive, the alleyway ran between the backs of small, drab houses, but despite its name it was bright and cheerful. Septimus and Marcia hurried along, noticing that the lights that lit their way were of an unusual variety. Balanced on the sills of windows that looked out over the Dive were all kinds of hollowed-out gourds with candles placed inside them. The gourds had been carved with fiendishly grinning faces, which stared down into the Dive and appeared to laugh and leer at them from their perches. Septimus was entranced; Marcia less so. “How very peculiar,” she said.

Things rapidly became even more peculiar—as they rounded a corner, they met three white-faced ghouls leading a dog on a string. The ghouls were laughing in a happy, unghoul-like way. As they approached Marcia and Septimus they said cheerily, “We know who
you
are!”

“Jolly good,” said Marcia frostily.

“Oh, ha ha. Very good. That's just what she'd say, isn't it?” the ghoul asked its companions. They laughed in agreement and stopped to talk.

“Yeah, but you know, the real Marcia's
much
scarier.”

“Oh?” said Marcia.

“And taller,” added another ghoul.

“Yeah, man, a good foot taller, I'd say. And
seriously
weird. I wouldn't like to meet the real one down the Dive on a dark night, ha ha!”

“Well,
really
!” said Marcia. “How rude!”

“Love it! Keeping in role. Very good. See ya—
Marcia!
” The ghouls departed, still laughing. One of them turned back and shouted, “And the new Apprentice too. Good touch. Have a good night!”

Bemused, Marcia watched them go. “I don't know, Septimus,” she said. “The Port never fails to surprise me.”

Some ten minutes later Septimus and Marcia were sitting by a small—and highly luxurious—coal fire. Septimus had never seen coal burning before and he was amazed at the heat it threw out. Outside, the rain was falling heavily and a wind was blowing in from the sea, sending the ropes thrumming against the masts of the boats tied up in the harbor no more than a few feet from the Customs House. Septimus felt really happy—for the first time in his life, he was away from the Castle and not outside in foul weather. And, even more amazingly, he was
not scared
. Not one little bit. He wriggled down into the warmth of the squashy armchair and breathed in deeply. Something smelled delicious.

“Supper,” said Marcia. “And about time too.”

D
omDaniel and Simon were standing
on the wide doorstep of what had once been a typical Port townhouse: tall and narrow with a large front door. This particular house looked as though it were about to fall down. The windows had planks nailed across them and there were
Darke
symbols painted on the wall over which had been scrawled some very rude graffiti. It was, thought Simon, just the kind of place he would expect DomDaniel to visit.

“Toad, Heap,” snapped DomDaniel.

“But—” Simon began defensively, thinking that DomDaniel was insulting him.

“The toad. In the toad bag, noodlebrain.”

When DomDaniel spoke, his lips did not move in quite the right way. It was odd, Simon thought, like being with a bad ventriloquist. Simon suppressed the uncomfortable idea that that probably made
him
the ventriloquist's dummy. He plunged his hand into the toad bag, scrabbled past the arm bones and at the bottom of the bag his fingers found a damp, squashy lump. The toad, covered in bone dust, sat on Simon's hand, blinking in the shock of the cold night air.

DomDaniel chuckled. “Fat and ugly,” he said. “They'll love it.”

Simon grimaced. Try as he might, he could not see the attraction of toads.

“I'll give you a piece of advice, Heap,” DomDaniel said confidentially. “Give a witch a
Darke
Toad and she will do anything you ask. If a Coven has one of these on their door, they'll get respect from every Coven in the land. No witch will dare to mess with them. Well, go on then, Heap.
Place
the toad.”

Simon looked confused. “Where?”

DomDaniel looked exasperated. “On the door, cabbage brain.”

Simon stared at the door. It was bristling with nails like a hedgehog and showed signs of having been attacked with a hammer. But among the forest of nails Simon spotted a small plinth just below a plain, flat doorknocker, and above the plinth someone had scrawled:
TOADYWOADY
. He reached up and carefully placed the toad on the plinth. To Simon's surprise the toad did not stay there. It hopped off and landed neatly onto the doorknocker where it settled down onto what Simon now realized was a toad-shaped surface. A
Darke
ripple passed across the toad and it
Transformed
into a toad-shaped doorknocker.